


Fever Dream

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Confessions, F/M, Fever, Fluff, Funny, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Insert, Sick Character, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: Reader makes an accidental confession, which starts the most intense game of hide and seek.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 115





	Fever Dream

For all intents and purposes, it was a normal day. JJ and Emily were stifling yawns in their respective offices, Rossi was avoiding paperwork, and I was pouring myself yet another cup of coffee to compensate for the fact that I’d stayed up all night reading about pop culture references. 

Okay, so that last part wasn’t entirely normal. And honestly, the amount of time it had taken me to read through the references was embarrassing compared to my normal rate. It wasn’t because it was uninteresting or anything; it was honestly just very involved. There are entirely too many people with too many different aliases for light reading.

As for why I’d spent the precious little free time we got reading about something I’d never really shown much of an interest in…

Well, as it usually goes with me making a fool out of myself, there was a girl. 

A girl so clever and funny and sweet that any time I talked to her, my words turned to mush and my brain turned into the most useless encyclopedia known to man. But I knew that she liked the things that I’d been reading about, and so the hope was that the next time I started a rant half-filled with gibberish, she might actually be able to understand what I was trying to say.

Then maybe one day, we’d just talk, and my tongue wouldn’t tie itself into knots and the butterflies in my stomach wouldn’t feel like they were made of lead. Maybe she would find that she liked talking to me, and we could start out as friends and possibly find a way to be more.

That was the plan, anyway.

It didn’t work out that way.

“Spencer!”

My heart immediately started to pound before the my brain even registered the words. Just the knowledge that the two of us were alone in the room together was too much for it to handle at its normal pace.

“Oh, hey (y/n),” I said as casually as possible, which was not at all, “What’s up?”

At first, I was excited to see her - maybe a little too excited. I nearly knocked over my own coffee mug as I rushed to turn to her. But once I did, what I saw made me pause.

“What’s up?” she sneered sarcastically, “I think you know what’s up, Spencer.”

It wasn’t that she looked bad, per se. She looked as beautiful as she always did. There was just something about her sluggish, clumsy movements that worried me. Even worse, she was slurring her words and stumbling towards me, much like a drunk person would.

“I… do?” I cautiously asked, trying to inspect her face that was quickly approaching mine.

She wagged a very accusatory finger in my face as she continued with a stern voice, “Yeah, you do. With your big, stupid brain and all those IQ points. You know.”

I only barely managed to avoid her actually touching me, although I’m still not sure why I was doing that. Most days I wished she would touch me more, but that time felt different.

“Know what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she shot back with a laugh, slowly stalking towards me like I was prey and she was the predator.

I wished that I was playing dumb. It would have made it easier. But I wasn’t. It wouldn’t be worth it to lie, either, because I had no idea what she was talking about. Heaven forbid it was something terrible — something I didn’t want to admit to. So, with a soft and unfortunately squeaky voice, I told her the truth.

“I’m… confused.”

“Fine,” she sighed, but her posture was anything but forgiving. She had me backed up against the countertop before she spoke again. “I’ll make this very, very simple for you. Okay?”

My heart skipped a beat, or two, or twenty at her proximity. Even worse, all logic and sense flew from me quicker than they ever had before. I was so preoccupied by the intensity of her stare that I almost didn’t realize she was waiting for my answer.

“Oka—?” But even when I did start to give it, I didn’t get very far. The full affirmation never left my mouth because before it could, her lips had already covered mine and swallowed what was left of the word. 

She kissed me. She was _kissing_ me. We were standing in the BAU’s kitchenette and she had just come up and kissed me like it was the most normal thing in the world. Meanwhile, I was barely moving and simultaneously praying that she couldn’t actually feel my heart trying to jump out into her arms.

Her lips were so soft and so sweet that I was dizzy from the way I gave all of my breath to her. Her body pressed me further into the counter, and I swore every nerve in my body was misfiring. It was the only explanation; I had lost my mind. Because once I was able to move again, I kissed her back. At first, it was just the minuscule parting of my lips, but when her hips rolled into mine, I had to hold her. 

Then I touched her. That was when it all went very, very wrong. With both hands cupping her face, I tore her lips off of mine.

“Jesus!” I shouted too loud in my surprise, “You’re burning up!”

But (y/n) didn’t seem concerned at my volume or words. No, she was lost in a fit of giggles as she dropped her entire body weight against me.

“That’s a really weird way to call me hot,” she slurred.

“No, I mean literally!” I said in a panic. I was trying to guide her back to her feet, but she seemed to just slip further down with each movement. “(Y/n) you have a fever, are you okay?”

It was a stupid question. Her response was even more ridiculous.

“I feel great. Everything is super…”

Before she could finish the half-baked thought, she promptly passed out in my arms.

—

The best part about a fever is waking up feeling like you’ve been hit by a freight train. Even better, you have no knowledge of the circumstances surrounding your being in front of said freight train. Not that it would matter anyway— the memories probably wouldn’t make much sense.

Even with way too much acetaminophen flooding my body, my brain still felt sluggish. It took me ages to find the strength to lift my phone, but once I saw who had sent me a message, it made it easier to convince myself to move quicker.

“How are you feeling? Did you sleep alright?” Spencer’s text read. It was so like him to worry. I’d heard that he was the one to insist someone take me to the hospital. For some reason, he hadn’t wanted to take me. He’d refused to explain why, and I wasn’t too keen on figuring it out.

“Yeah. I feel like I was hit by a train, but otherwise I’m good.”

I almost set my phone down, but before I’d moved an inch, it buzzed again.

“I’ll come by later with some food. Don’t believe that nonsense about starving fevers.”

For a long moment I just sat and appreciated the way I could almost hear his voice reading me the words. Images of Spencer and myself curled up in a mountain of blankets while I sipped broth seemed like an almost-heaven in that moment. Then again, I was sure it wouldn’t actually happen like that. More likely than not, I’d get nervous if he so much as smiled at me and kick him out before I made a fool of myself. I had a tendency to do that.

I also, apparently, had a tendency to zone out for too long. After my silence stretched over the three minute mark, another message appeared on the screen.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I can come by now if you need me to.”

Both a giggle and a scoff were had over the downright adorable concern. If he weren’t so cute, I would have thought he was doing a bit much. But I knew better than to assign ulterior motives to Spencer. He was, for the most part, a very good boy.

“I’m fine, Spencer. Don’t be such a worrywart,” I sent back. This time I didn’t even bother lowering my phone. I could already see him typing.

Unfortunately, I received two messages at once. Spencer’s read, “Well, it’s not entirely selfless. I was also hoping to talk to you about yesterday.”

JJ’s, on the other hand…

“You told Spence?!”

I flipped to the screen so fast that it seemed impossible for Penelope to have already responded, but she had.

“FINALLY!”

“What are you talking about?” I typed with fingers even faster than when I’d seen Spencer had messaged me. This seemed far more important, considering I had no memories that even remotely related to what JJ was implying.

Then again, it was possible my brain would have blocked out a memory of a confession even without a high fever. But, as I would soon learn, it was not a confession. It was much, much worse.

“He told me this morning that you KISSED HIM?”

There was a brief pause where my brain imploded, but somehow still ordered my fingers to answer, “WHAT?”

“Oh my god it’s like a fairytale,” Penelope chimed in, but I was quick to discount that theory.

“No no no no, this is not good.”

Then, with his usually horribly timing, Spencer interrupted my mental breakdown with a question that was basically impossible to answer. 

“(Y/n)? Is everything alright?”

But the answer was also very easy: No. It was not alright. That wasn’t what I said, though. Instead I switched back to the group chat where I frantically continued my all-caps ranting.

“HE SAID HES COMING OVER WHAT DO I DO?”

“Talk to him!” JJ replied, solidifying her role as my least helpful friend. Of course, it was definitely the reasonable and mature thing to do, but we both knew it wasn’t going to happen.

“I can’t do that, JJ!!!”

“I agree.” Penelope kindly replied. Before she ruined it with another set of texts, that is. “Just kiss him again. He’s smart but he’s also sorta dumb.”

As JJ started to chastise Penelope, I set the phone down. It was funny how quickly my brain had gone from sluggish to frantic, just to settle back into a pure state of exhaustion. I really had no idea how to answer him, and the longer I took, the more he would worry.

But I couldn’t let him come over. If what JJ had said was true, and there was no reason for her to lie, then there was no way I could face him. Spencer didn’t care about that, though, because while the thoughts of doom and gloom ran through my head, he was texting me again.

“I’m worried about you. You said some weird stuff yesterday and… you know.”

That was the thing. I didn’t know. I had no way of knowing without talking to him, and I _definitely_ wasn’t going to do that.

“I’m going to die,” I sent the girls upon my return to the group.

After a few minutes of on-and-off typing, which I was fairly certain was going to be a rant about facing my feelings, JJ relented.

“Fine. I’ll tell him I already said I was going to check on you.”

“Thank you!!!” I replied, adding way too many exclamation marks and also reacting to the message. The flattery didn’t work to dissuade JJ from providing her unsolicited advice. It was never going to. She simply cared too much for the two of us to stay out of our business.

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually,” she reminded. I was going to respond with something reasonable to express my gratitude despite the reminder, but Penelope beat me to it. 

“Or, if you go with my plan, no talking necessary,” she joked.

Without a second of hesitation, JJ cut in when she saw me typing.

“Don’t listen to her.”

“It would work,” Penelope pointed out.

The smile on my face at their shenanigans didn’t last long enough.

“Oh, sorry, JJ said just told me she was already coming.” Spencer said, and even through the text I could feel a sense of awkward disappointment. “Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

I felt bad about the trickery, but it seemed so much better than the alternative. JJ was right — we’d have to acknowledge the whole thing eventually. However, I didn’t want to do it immediately, and definitely not while I was still sick. It wasn’t like Spencer was just going to forget about it. He would remember, even if I didn’t.

“Sorry for the late reply. I just dozed off. I’ll talk to you later.”

His response only made the knots in my stomach grow tighter and heavier.

“Okay, sweet dreams.”

And, like the terrible person I really felt like I was, I didn’t reply. There was nothing left to say that wouldn’t risk revealing that the only sweet dreams I had were the ones with him in it, and that sort of sounded like a nightmare at the time.

Didn’t mean I didn’t still want to have them, though.

—

I ended up staying out of commission for a full two weeks. Apparently, the flu and I did not get along. It felt weird to be away from the BAU for that long, and in a way, I wasn’t. Most of them had stopped by at least once to help with errands or to keep me company. Spencer had tried to come over a few times, but I’d always found a way out of it. Eventually, he’d stopped asking.

I still felt terrible about avoiding him, but I hadn’t yet planned my answers to the questions he would undoubtedly ask. And no matter how stupid it seems, I was convinced that I could come up with the perfect response if I just had a little bit more time.

But then I was there, in the same kitchenette I’d apparently confessed my love and quickly passed out in, when Spencer Reid walked through the door.

“Good morning.”

I couldn’t tell you why I jumped at a completely normal and expected greeting, but I did. Very noticeably, too.

“Ah! Hello!” I shouted, clutching my cup of coffee like it was a goddamn teleport key. But Spencer, for once, wasn’t being strange. If anything, he looked sort of forlorn and more cautious than I was used to.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked quietly. His eyes roamed over my figure, but I think he was really just avoiding my eyes. “You look kind of jumpy, are you sure you’re ready to be back?”

A normal person would have responded in kind, keeping things professional if not a bit sad. I, apparently, did not want to be a normal person.

“I’m fit as a fiddle, Dr. Reid!” I said through a bout of nervous laughter. “Tip top shape. Ready as a racehorse. I am… the pinnacle of health.”

Spencer just stared at me, his eyes growing narrower with each passing phrase. Any attempts to assure him of my sanity were backfiring spectacularly, as I’m pretty sure he was even more worried about me then than he had been with the high fever. He had the decency not to talk about how weird I was being, though, and took my words at face value.

“Right…” he muttered before taking a step closer. When he saw my eyes flash down to his feet as he approached, he stopped. His voice was small and shaking when he finally squeaked out, “Then do you think we could talk—“

My heart felt like it was going to stop if I didn’t calm it down. He was close enough that I could smell his cologne, which brought back feelings that felt vaguely familiar. Feelings, I suspect, had first emerged in this very spot a week ago.

Before Spencer could get any farther, and before I could think of a more acceptable way to stop him than literally just screaming, my saving grace came in the form of Grant Anderson.

“Anderson!” I yelled, causing both men in the room to jump. The poor guy clearly had no idea what was going on, and I’m guessing my absolutely panic-ridden demeanor did not comfort him at all. But I ignored that and pressed on.

With one large step to the side, I passed Spencer and grabbed hold of our coworker’s arm. Whether it was because he was stunned or he just thought I genuinely needed him for something, he followed without any complaint.

“My good old buddy, old pal. I haven’t seen you in forever. Didn’t you need me for something?”

“What? I don’t… think so?” he mumbled.

“Sure you did!” I nervously laughed. “Come with me to my desk.”

Unlike me, he spared Spencer one last glance before we rounded the corner and left him alone in the room.

Spencer didn’t try to talk to me again that day.

—

For the most part, it was easy to avoid being alone with Spencer. JJ and Emily were, for whatever reason, willing to put up with my begging to be partnered with someone else on the field for an entire case. Not that Spencer really protested, anyway. I guess everyone just figured the taxpayers deserved better than us being distracted. The greater good and all that.

But it didn’t really work, anyway. I was still distracted from start to finish, and the plane ride home was no exception. In fact, if anything, that was when the feeling was at its worst.

Because while the rest of the jet was silent aside from Rossi’s occasional snores, Spencer and I were wide awake. After a few almost-stealthy glances, he crossed the cabin to come sit across from me and away from the others.

“Hey,” was all that he had to say.

“Hello, Dr. Reid. Fancy meeting you here.” I tried to make it sound normal, but it wasn’t. Nothing had felt normal since that day, and I was starting to worry that it never would be again. It was obvious Spencer felt the same even before he said it, which he did.

“Yeah, lately it sort of feels like if we’re not locked in a tiny, enclosed space thousands of feet in the air, I don’t stand a chance of talking to you.”

The statement should have hurt, but in a way, Spencer made it sound lighthearted despite the sadness bleeding through the words. There was a soft, understanding smile overtaking his features. I don’t know why it surprised me that he could be so sweet even in the face of stubborn immaturity; Spencer was always good at cheering me up. Sometimes I was convinced I couldn’t do anything to make him hate me. But even with that suspicion, I wasn’t brave enough to tell him the truth.

I was just a coward.

“Sorry. Life has been sort of crazy lately,” I sighed, placing my phone down in my lap to pay him the attention he deserved for as long as my heart would let me.

Apparently, Spencer didn’t want that to last long, because he didn’t beat around the bush _at all_.

“Do I play any part in that craziness?” he asked, leaning forward and pouncing on the opportunity I’d given him. It wasn’t like I could run away from this one easily. “I don’t mean to sound narcissistic or anything, things have just been really weird since we ki—“

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you, no. Sorry,” I blurted out. My words were curt and forceful, and I regretted my tone used immediately. It was too late to take that back, though. There was no way I could come up with a convincing lie, either, considering the way he was staring at me with puppy dog eyes and a trembling pout.

I panicked.

“I uh, I actually have a headache,” I said in a very unconvincing manner, “That flu was harder to shake than I thought, I guess.”

“Oh,” Spencer answered before he sank down in his chair. It was the only way he could both stay close and get away from me. It was a desire I understood well.

Pulling my jacket up over my chin, I stared out the window as I muttered, “I think I’m just gonna try to get some sleep like everyone else.”

“Right. I’m sorry to bother you,” Spencer said with a voice that sounded broken in more than one way. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks.”

As he stood up and left to return to his previous seat, I found myself hoping I would feel better soon, too. Maybe then I could finally tell him the truth. But the longer I lay there, feigning sleep with racing thoughts, the more I realized that it was probably never going to happen.

—

It’d been three weeks since I confessed to Spencer. My fever was completely gone, and the memories seemed to come back in small, untrustworthy bursts. Half the time it felt like I remembered Spencer kissing me back, but the rest of the time I had a sick, sinking feeling that he’d been completely repulsed by my actions.

I was an untrustworthy narrator, and an even worse friend. He hadn’t really talked to me in days, so I just figured he’d finally given up. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had — no one was worth the trouble I was giving him. But every now and then he would look at me and I would get that same fluttery feeling in my stomach, and I swore he felt it, too. Not that it mattered if we didn’t talk to each other.

Despite not having any memories of Spencer and myself alone in my apartment, it felt empty without him there. He’d asked to come over so many times that my brain had tricked itself into thinking he would come. I was missing memories that weren’t even real.

I was just a lovesick idiot, sitting on a couch and refusing to call the person who would probably come if I asked. It wouldn’t be fair to him, though. He deserved better. That was the thought I had when a knock sounded at my door.

For a long moment, I just stared at it, expecting someone in a neighboring unit to open their door and greet their friend or accept their delivery. But then, it happened again, and there was no mistaking it was my door.

“Coming!” I called while stumbling up from my seat on the couch. Avoiding disaster by not tripping over my blanket and my side table, I managed to open the door looking as much like a wreck as anyone could expect at that hour.

What I found on the other side of the door, however, was not a wreck. It was Spencer, looking just as adorably, clumsily put together as always.

“Spencer?”

“H-Hey,” he struggled through the syllable.

I poked my head down the hallway to see if anyone had joined him, but it was just the two of us. He hadn’t said anything else, and in my shock I wasn’t really sure how to turn him away. I wasn’t sick anymore, and all of my normal crutches were far, far away.

“Can I come in?”

Turning back to him, I hesitantly took a step back and opened the door. “Sure,” I said with an equally unsteady voice, “Sorry for the mess.”

I wasn’t just talking about my apartment. Spencer barely seemed to notice the state of any of it, though. His rigid body language warned me of many different things, and my pessimism and insecurities raged in my gut. When our eyes finally met, I decided to accept my fate.

“Spencer, listen, I need to talk to you about—mm!”

The yelp that left my lips was muffled by another pair as Spencer lunged forward, catching my face in his hands and kissing me. It should have been hard with the way the muscles in his arms tensed, but every part of him that touched me was inexplicably gentle. The soft pads of his fingers swept over my cheeks, and a final breath of relief shuddered through his mouth and against mine as he pulled away.

The kiss wasn’t nearly long enough, and when I asked him, “What are you doing?” I wasn’t sure if I was asking why he was kissing me, or why he had stopped.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… you wouldn’t let me say anything so I figured I’d just… show you,” Spencer explained without removing his hands or allowing any distance to form between us. “Like you did to me.”

If he had thought my face was hot the day I had a fever, I’m sure it was even worse in that moment. The blood rushed to my cheeks so quickly I almost felt dizzy, too. The same lips he’d just kissed sprung into an overly apologetic tangent while he just smiled.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry, I don’t remember that. It was so inappropriate and I never want you to be uncomfortab—“

That time when he kissed me there was no hesitation left. Although still tender, he pressed harder against my lips. I think he would have kept the kiss going if I hadn’t ruined it by laughing.

“Is this how you’re going to answer me now?” I whispered, “Just cutting me off and kissing me?”

“I mean, I’m certainly not going to complain if that’s what I have to do,” he returned with a chuckle of his own.

Although I didn’t want the moment to end, and it felt scary to lift my hand to his, I still wanted to do it. I wanted to show him in all the little ways my body would let me that I was grateful for his bravery. Heaven knows I would’ve let the awkwardness drag on until the day I died.

But Spencer had taken the risk. Granted, he already knew how I felt about him. Even if he’d doubted my confession, all he would have had to do is look at Penelope and she would have spilled the beans. And despite their promises not to interfere, I had a feeling both she and JJ had something to do with this strategy.

“So that’s it?” I asked, “I just have to talk more and you’ll kiss me?”

The rules seemed pretty important at the time. I wanted to get them straight. Spencer seemed appreciative of my desire to learn, but he shook his head yes, nonetheless.

“That’s one way of getting me to kiss you, yeah.”

“What’s the other way?”

With a smile that scrunched his eyes and furrowed brows, he laughed. The answer must have seemed so obvious to him, but in my infatuated delirium, nothing seemed reasonable. A world where I got to kiss Spencer Reid already seemed too good to be true.

“You could just…. ask me to,” he explained.

“And you would… want to kiss me?” I pressed, still not trusting the reality unfolding before me. I thought about pinching myself or taking my temperature to convince myself it wasn’t just a dream or fever-induced hallucination, but Spencer pulled me closer.

“I’m going to make this very, very simple for you. Okay?”

When he kissed me that time, I realized it had to be real. Even through the giggles and bumping noses, I couldn’t describe the feeling as anything less than perfect. Throughout all the time I’d known him, I’d never pictured something so simple making me as happy as it did.

I decided that the kiss meant three things: I was very glad that I’d fallen sick, that Spencer definitely probably liked me, and that from that point on, I would be talking around him way, way more.


End file.
